


An Uncommon Bond

by FullmetalChords



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Crack, Disapproving Family, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 09:59:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3406445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullmetalChords/pseuds/FullmetalChords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once Lucina settled down with the tactician, it was only a matter of time before the rest of her friends started getting married as well.</p><p>But no one expected them all to marry each other.</p><p>--</p><p>Very, VERY self-indulgent semi-crackfic based heavily on my current file. Read at your own risk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Uncommon Bond

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, a couple of things. First of all, this is REALLY self-indulgent (as FE:A fic sometimes is), heavily based off my hard mode file where I started support log scumming to get all kid marriages, and then realized I liked it better if they were all married to one another, rather than getting them to pair off for no reason. Since I'm just about done with that file, and since the file has taken me a LONG time to get through (five months and 200+ hours), I wrote this to commemorate the end of the game. I was going to only post it on Tumblr, buuuuut it's super long, so I'm putting it on here instead so it reads easier. I'm really sorry. 
> 
> I won't go through all the marriages in that file (a lot of them are alluded to in here anyway), but the ones you need to worry most about are Lucina/Avatar, Libra/Tharja, and probably Vaike/Miriel and Frederick/Maribelle since it helps explain a joke?
> 
> Also, the tactician in my file is named Pikachu, not Robin, which I know is really hilarious and jarring for everyone reading. I'm not going to change it for the sake of readers' comfort because that defeats the purpose of SELF-INDULGENT GARBAGE FIC. But just giving advance warning anyway.

“Would you be mad if I started dating a girl?”

Lucina froze at her writing table, turning around to face her daughter, framed in the tent entrance. Morgan’s normal smile was replaced with a look of worry, and her hands, usually full of tactical books, were empty, twisting around themselves in anxiety.

“Of course not,” Lucina said, rising quickly to her feet to face her daughter. “Morgan, I…” She hesitated, not wanting to stumble over her words. She wasn’t as good with handling emotions as her husband was – blame her upbringing where emotions were a luxury, she supposed. “It doesn’t matter to me who you love, Morgan,” she said, offering her daughter a rare, but genuine, smile. “All that I care about is that she – or he – makes you happy.”

Sexual orientation simply hadn’t been an issue in her time. Lifespans had become so short, and traditional social order had broken down so quickly, that Lucina had never had the heart to condemn her fellow soldiers for finding happiness where they could get it. She wasn’t about to bring old Ylissean prejudices down on her daughter, who she loved fiercely despite neither of them remembering their shared history.

“Really?” Morgan’s face relaxed into her normal, bright smile. “Oh, Mom! I was so worried!” She flung herself at Lucina in a tight hug, making Lucina laugh in surprise.

“I take it this means you found someone?” she said, lightly teasing.

“Yes!” Morgan pulled away to beam at her mother. “They’re amazing, trust me.”

“Well,” Lucina said, smoothing her daughter’s messy blue curls away from her face, “you’ll certainly have to bring her by for dinner one of these days, won’t you?”

“You’ll have to make a lot!” Morgan laughed. “You know how hungry my Bunny gets. Not to mention Minerva needs a lot of food herself…” 

“Wh-“ Just like that, Lucina found herself off-footed. ‘Bunny’… that must be Yarne, given how Lucina had heard him complain about the nickname Morgan had given him. But what did Minerva have to do with it? Was Morgan seeing Gerome, or Yarne?

“Morgan,” Lucina said slowly, “I thought you said—well, I thought you _meant_ you were in love with a woman.”

“I am!” Morgan grinned at her mother. “Five of them.”

A beat.

“And six men.”

Lucina found herself sitting heavily back down.

 

\---

 

“Y-you’re…”

Olivia didn’t think her face had ever been as red as it was right now. Of course she’d heard of people taking multiple partners to bed – had even had several friends in Basilio’s court who followed that lifestyle – but _this_?

Her son seemed all too aware of her discomfort, seeming uncomfortable with the discussion himself. Inigo was wandering around her tent to examine her books, her weapons, as though he found it too difficult to look her in the eye during this conversation. “Mother, I understand if you find this too difficult to accept. To me – to us, it’s the only option that makes sense, but to you it must seem… complicated.”

“A-and you… wish to marry _all_ of them?” Olivia repeated, still feeling faint. She was, surprisingly enough, still handling this better than her husband. Poor Stahl had passed out cold after their son had burst into their tent, proclaiming that he’d finally decided to settle down… with eleven partners at once.

Inigo sighed, his fingers lingering on the spine of _Ribald Tales of the Faith War._ Olivia had surreptitiously borrowed it from Sumia, reading it late into the night.

“Mother,” he finally said, “I do not think I can live without Morgan’s light, or Kjelle’s strength, or Severa’s pragmatism. Nor do I wish to part with Cynthia’s smile, Noire’s quiet fierceness, Nah’s refusal to tolerate my nonsense… I love the way Owain challenges me, the way Laurent takes care of me. I love that Brady wrote a song just for me to dance to. I love that Yarne doesn’t laugh when he catches me practicing, but actually joins in. And Gerome… I know he looks harsh, but he cares for me so deeply, and he’d drop anything to help me. Any of us, in fact.” He sighed again, his head drooping. “I cannot live without any one of them, Mother. Please do not ask me to choose.”

Olivia took in his words silently. Ever since she’d found him wandering around Valm, Inigo had often come to the tent she shared with Stahl, proclaiming his affections for some random girl or other, and insisting it would be “impossible to choose only one girl to settle down with, Mother!” But she’d never heard of him talk about a single other person with the fervor that he described his eleven future companions now… let alone all of them at once. 

And she took a look at her son, how he stood by her bookshelf, still not looking at her. The way his shoulders sagged, the corners of his mouth turning down, were so unlike the confident, swaggering boy she’d become used to, that her heart melted. 

“Inigo,” she said, “do they all…?”

“Yes,” he said, turning to look at her nervously. “We’ve all… well, we’ve discussed it, but all twelve of us feel much the same way. We’ve no desire to… pair off.”

Olivia could only imagine how awkward _that_ little powwow must have been. “I don’t entirely understand it,” she said slowly, “but I love you, Inigo. If this is what makes you happy, then… I suppose I’m glad.”

Inigo’s eyes went wide. “Mother…!” And without warning, he swooped down on her, wrapping her in a tight hug as he started to cry.

“Inigo, be careful…!” Olivia protested, as she was still in her assassin gear, with blades poking out in every which direction. But her son only pulled her tighter, bending down to nuzzle his face into her thick black scarf, and Olivia sighed, hands gently rubbing his back.

 

\---

 

It wasn’t long before the news had spread through the whole camp. It was difficult to keep a secret, of course, what with the children going around and telling their parents. Before long, gossip was flying between the tents, thicker than the arrows during the Valmese campaign.

“Is it so much to ask,” Maribelle sniffed to her two closest friends over tea, “that my son be able to make a simple _choice_ when deciding to settle down?” 

“And who would you rather he chose?” Libra said, frowning slightly. “My daughter, or Lissa’s son?” Maribelle faltered, which was very unlike her.

“Lissa, darling,” she said, turning to the princess and avoiding the question entirely, “surely you can’t approve of Owain carrying on like this. He’s of royal blood, after all! Oughtn’t he find a wife, start a more _traditional_ family?”

“Oh… I dunno,” Lissa said, though she sounded uncomfortable. “Just knowing how _spirited_ Owain is, it didn’t surprise me much when he told me. I should probably just be glad he found someone who’s willing to stay his sword hand. Even if it is eleven someones.”

Maribelle just kept shaking her head, tugging irritably at one of her corkscrew curls.

“If they have children,” she kept muttering. “If one of those girls gets pregnant, whose child will it _be_? What will that poor child’s life be like? Whoever heard of a child with six mothers and six fathers?”

Libra kept silent, taking a slow sip of tea. It was true that their children’s “carrying on”, as Maribelle kept angrily referring to it, was not particularly in line with Naga’s teachings. But Libra kept thinking of his own childhood, his cruel mother and neglectful father, with no love for each other, let alone for him. How could Naga smile on their union, on the hellish life he’d lived so young, and yet frown on twelve troubled young people finding happiness all together?

Besides, he was more concerned with the fact that Noire had yet to broach the subject with him. He knew his daughter had had a difficult life, first being left alone with Tharja’s rages and then having to fight monsters every day, and perhaps that made it difficult for her to open up to others… but did she not trust Libra, her father, with her feelings?

 

\---

 

Across camp, there was gossip of a different sort.

“Always knew the Vaike’s son had it in him!” Vaike was declaring proudly, holding a mug aloft. “Laurent, ya stud! Who’d’ve guessed?”

“If he hurts Noire,” Tharja said from her place in the shadows, where she was thumbing through a tome, “he’ll have this blood curse to answer for. All your spawn will, actually.” She let a sinister giggle escape her.

“How d’you think it all works, anyway?” Nowi piped up, swinging her legs as she sat atop a crate. “All those boingy bits, and those dangly bits—“

“Stop talking,” Tharja said, half-threatening, but Nowi wasn’t to be deterred. 

“In that tent they must have one big big _biiiiig_ bed!” The manakete spread her arms as wide as they would go before she toppled over, giggling.

Cordelia said nothing, watching her comrades debate over their children’s sleeping arrangements, or any possible favoritism, or taking bets on how soon it would all fall apart. Severa had been almost _defiant_ when she’d told her and Gregor about her choice, crossing her arms and exiting the tent, pigtails swinging, as soon as she’d finished delivering the news.

It was difficult enough for Cordelia to connect with her daughter. She already decided she’d do her best to be supportive, if only Severa would let her.

“What are you all doing?” Everyone froze as Frederick strode into the middle of their circle. “If you have time to gossip, you certainly have time to train. Grab a weapon and head to the ring, now!” 

Everyone moved to obey, but Vaike stopped, his fingers inches from his axe. 

“Hey, who d’you think’s getting more tail, anyway?” he asked Frederick, apparently still intent on continuing his gossip with _someone_. “Laurent, or Brady?”

Without even blinking, Frederick seized the warrior by the ear, making Vaike howl in pain.

“Twenty extra laps around the perimeter,” he said with his usual calm, deaf to Vaike’s “lemme go!”s. “For disrespecting my son.”

He caught Cordelia’s eye as though daring her to join Vaike, and Cordelia quickly saluted Frederick before rushing off to join the others for drills.

 

\---

 

And meanwhile, in Pikachu’s tent, Lucina was in a _state_.

“I can’t _believe_ ,” his wife said for the hundredth time, her fingers fidgeting idly on Falchion’s hilt. “I can’t believe my _best friends_ are out there right now, debauching _my daughter…_ ”

“No one’s debauching Morgan,” Pikachu explained patiently, examining the map of the continent, his finger tracing the road they were traveling on. “She’s asexual.” That had been something his daughter had easily shared with him, whereas this idea to enter into a twelvesome had been gained secondhand through his wife. He tried not to read too much into that detail.

“My _sister_ , Pikachu!” Lucina raged, turning on him. “Are you not at all worried that our daughter is… is sleeping with her aunt? Or that my sister is sleeping with our _cousin_?”

“Again, Morgan’s ace,” Pikachu murmured, his mind still full of possible combinations of warriors to send out. “She’s not sleeping with anyone, let alone Kjelle. Plus, I’ve gathered both she and Owain prefer the company of their own gender in bed…”

“You’re not listening!” 

“Yes, I am.” Pikachu leaned back to look calmly into his wife’s pale face. “I thought you’ve mentioned that in your time, things were so hellish that you didn’t care who was sleeping with who." 

Lucina stopped mid-pace. “Yes,” she said, begrudgingly. “I said that.”

“Then, what?” He turned around in his chair to face her. “You don’t even get this worked up about Grima. Are you… wait. Are you _jealous_?”

Lucina flinched at the fell dragon’s name, but otherwise didn’t answer, her eyes on the carpet that made up their tent’s floor.

“I’m not… jealous,” she said slowly. “Not exactly. I’m happy with you. I _love_ you. You do know that, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Pikachu soothed her.

“It’s just…” Lucina sighed, sitting on the edge of their cot. “In the past, all of us were so close. Not _that_ close,” she hastily added, “but it’s not hard for me to see why my friends ended up the way they have. But then Morgan appears, and they just let her in…”

Pikachu realized what Lucina was trying to say.

“You’re feeling left out,” he said, coming to sit beside her.

Lucina faced him, and he could see the mark of Naga flash in her eye. “It’s like they all got closer without me,” she said, biting her lip. “I don’t want to be their lover, but I still want to be their _friend_. What if… what if they forget about me?”

“They won’t,” Pikachu soothed, running his fingers through Lucina’s long navy hair. “Talk to them, okay? Try and tell them how you feel.”

Lucina sighed, leaning against him. Falchion’s hilt bit into Pikachu’s hip, but he said nothing, more than used to it by now. Lucina never took that sword off, sometimes even wearing it to bed with them.

“And Morgan?” she said quietly. “How do you feel about Morgan in all this?”

Pikachu took a moment to consider. “Well, tactically, it makes the most sense.”

“Pikachu!” Lucina protested, pulling back to look at him.

“No, really!” Pikachu said brightly, his mind still half on his maps. “If our daughter has eleven spouses, think of how safe she’ll be on the battlefield!” He tended to send the Shepherds out to battle in pairs, keeping husbands with wives, but if the twelve über-warriors from the future were all married to each other? Ah, the possibilities…

Lucina grumbled, but didn’t move away.

 

\---

 

“How’d you get so good at braiding hair?” Severa wanted to know, shifting in Morgan’s lap to look at her.

“I dunno!” Morgan laughed, tying off the Dutch braid she’d woven into Severa’s beautiful auburn locks. “I don’t exactly remember stuff like that. But I’m glad you like it.” She sweetly leaned around to kiss the mercenary’s cheek as Severa turned red.

“Noire, this cake is simply _wonderful_ ,” Laurent proclaimed, dabbing the crumbs from his mouth. “What did you say it was called?”

“Well, Owain named it the…”

“The High Temple of Austere Majesty!” Owain proclaimed loudly from his corner of their tent, where he was currently sandwiched between Inigo and Brady.

“INSOLENCE!” Noire growled in his direction. “DO NOT DARE TO INTERRUPT ME, MORTAL!” Laurent made a stuttered gasp at her shift in demeanor, and the whole tent saw how red his face went before taking Noire into his arms, making her squeak as he kissed her deeply.

It seemed Owain was not finished waxing rhapsodic about the cake, either. “Lo, how the delicate touch of lemon weds the tartness of the raspberry!” he said, waving his arm excitedly and accidentally elbowing Inigo in the stomach. “Yea, though I wander through the shadow of the valley of death, I fear no Risen, for this cake shall—“ Brady interrupted Owain’s speech by pulling him down into a deep kiss, and soon Inigo had joined in, nuzzling Owain’s shoulder from behind as his fingers found Brady’s.

The tent they were in was something of an amalgamation of six different tents, all sewn together by Gerome so the twelve of them could sleep under the same roof. It was lopsided, somewhat dilapidated, but it was homey nonetheless, full of little private alcoves where bedrolls were stored and personal items were kept, and a little common area in the center where a low table sat, ready for them all to gather round at a moment’s notice.

“Whew!” Cynthia burst into the tent, her cheeks tinged pink from the wind outside, and Gerome followed close behind her, ducking low as he entered. “Guys, have you ever been up with Gerome? It’s AMAZING up there!”

“You fly a Pegasus,” Gerome grumbled, accepting kisses from Severa, Morgan, and Yarne in turn. “Being in the sky is hardly a novelty for you.”

“Yeah, but see, Minerva flies _way_ higher than my Pegasus,” Cynthia said, standing on her tiptoes to run her fingers idly through Yarne’s fur. “Plus, _gods_ , making out on the back of a wyvern in flight is _awesome_ , guys. Ten out of ten, would recommend.”

“What?!” Inigo disentangled himself from Owain and Brady to jump to his feet. “Gerome, I insist we go do that, like, _now_.”

“Minerva’s a bit worn out,” Gerome protested, and Inigo pouted. “Oh, gods, come here, you baby.” He snagged Inigo by the waist, kissing him thoroughly as Inigo groaned, reaching up to pull Gerome’s mask off. Severa watched the two of them with a gentle smile so unlike her characteristic smirk.

“Bunny,” Morgan cooed, dragging the taguel back to his corner of the tent, where everyone’s dirty clothing and bedding formed a sort of soft nest that Yarne liked to sleep in. “Transform, would you? I need some snuggles.”

“I can’t just transform whenever you want me to,” Yarne protested, his face going pale. “My beaststone has a limited number of uses, and…”

“Pleeeease?” Morgan begged, sticking out her lower lip. “Everyone else is busy. And I won’t pull your ears this time, I promise!” With a sigh, Yarne obeyed, and soon Morgan was curled up around the giant taguel, sighing happily into his fur as she stroked his back gently.

“You’re the best at snuggles,” she said. “Don’t tell Kjelle.”

“That’s all right,” Kjelle said from the tent doorway, still in her full armor. “You can have her, Yarne. I’m beat from patrolling.” She sat down at the table in the center of the tent, helping herself to some of Noire’s leftover cake.

“Gawds, you must be tired if you’re going for sweets,” Severa remarked, going to help Kjelle remove her armor.

“Noire made it,” Kjelle sighed, putting a morsel into her mouth. “She knows it’s my one weakness.”

“Sorry,” Noire said from the corner where she was currently ensconced with Laurent. Both of them were still clothed, but Laurent was kneeling at Noire’s feet, removing her boots to eagerly rub her aching feet.

“You’ll make it up to me later,” Kjelle said casually, and Noire blushed scarlet. Severa set Kjelle’s pauldrons so she could rub the other girl’s aching shoulders, and Kjelle sighed in relief, leaning into Severa’s touch. Inigo had retreated into a shadowy corner of the tent with Gerome, while Brady and Owain were just sitting up, both of their hair extremely mussed as Brady continued to press playful pecks along Owain’s jawline, both young men grinning. 

“Where’d Nah get to?” Cynthia wanted to know, settling on the cushion beside Kjelle as she helped undo the knight’s breastplate and gauntlets. “I thought she was patrolling with you.”

“Ah, well,” Kjelle muttered, looking uncomfortable. “She went off to the mess tent to grab some dinner, so… our parents probably cornered her.”

The mention of their parents completely killed the mood, as it always did – Morgan sat up from where she’d been innocently curled beside Yarne, Brady immediately pulled back from Owain… even Gerome and Inigo froze, their faces separating as they both looked conflicted.

“I should have gone with her,” Kjelle said to the tent at large, apparently misinterpreting their unease. “But she squeezed my hand and told me she’d bring back dinner for all of us…”

“I ain’t scared for Nah,” Brady said, running a hand through his hair, trying to get it to stick back up again. “If any of youse could stand up to Ma, it’s definitely her.” Owain reached out to rub Brady’s back, and Brady leaned unconsciously into the touch.

“Our parents certainly have been… less than understanding,” Laurent said diplomatically, straightening his glasses as Noire shrank away from him, pulling her knees to her chest. “My own mother treated me to a rather long treatise on the pitfalls of polyamory, when she heard the news.”

The tent erupted in chatter. 

“Mom fell flat on her face when she heard! I mean, she’s always doing that, but…”

“Alack and alas! My humble father could not fathom me wishing to become close with _one_ woman, let alone six!”

“Mom wasn’t too happy… apparently even in the warren, taguels didn’t take multiple mates.”

“Dad keeps telling me to ‘act like the princess you are, Kjelle’. Psh, hope he isn’t holding his breath.”

“Mother’s okay with it,” Inigo ventured, and ten pairs of eyes snapped in his direction. 

“ _Olivia_ ’s okay with us?!”

“Apparently one of her best friends in Regna Ferox took up with a man and his wife, and they were all happy.” Inigo shrugged, straightening the collar Gerome had left askew. “Father fainted when I told him, though.”

“Mom thinks it’s weird,” Morgan piped up. “I think she thinks all of you corrupted me.” Everyone momentarily averted their gaze at the mention of Lucina. It was strange, being in this situation without her, but the twelve of them had formed bonds on these new battlefields that their once-Exalt hadn’t been privy to. They all still cared deeply for Lucina, but now that this strange new love had developed, they were unsure how to continue including her in their lives.

There was a rustling at the tent opening, and soon Nah entered, carrying two large cauldrons of stew in her hands, barely straining despite their size. She was greeted in a somewhat subdued fashion by all of them, given recent conversation, but Morgan jumped up to give her a tight hug nonetheless, and Kjelle came to kiss the top of her head.

“Sorry, kiddo,” the knight said, relieving Nah of her burden and setting their dinner on the table. “I know you want to prove you can do things by yourself, but next time at least let me go with you for moral support or something…”

Nah smiled, though her expression was tight. “No problem. I had a little help, anyway.”

“Where’re the bowls?” Brady demanded, coming over to see what Nah had brought them. “I’m starvin’!”

Nah had just opened her mouth to answer when there was movement behind her. Carrying bowls in one hand and a few loaves of bread in the other was…

“Libra has them,” Nah ended unnecessarily, gesturing behind her at the priest.

“Daddy!” Noire jumped to her feet in shock, rearranging her clothing. Her companions did the same, startled and uneasy at holier-than-thou Libra’s appearance in their midst.

Libra set down the bowls and bread before smiling calmly at his daughter.

“Noire. Travelers. Might I have a word?”

 

\---

 

“As you might have noticed,” Libra said when all the children were seated and eating, “tensions in the camp over this situation are… rather high.”

“We aren’t a ‘situation,’” Gerome growled as he dunked the edge of his bread into his stew. “We’re a family.”

“Of course,” Libra said, nodding respectfully. “I apologize for misspeaking. What I wished to say is…”

“We already know our parents hate us,” Severa sniped from her corner, playing with her near-empty bowl. “You don’t have to, like, rub it in.” Beside her, Laurent patted her knee, and Severa slumped against the dark knight, hiding her face in his shoulder. 

“Not all of them hate us,” Yarne pointed out, and talk erupted amongst them again. 

“My father keeps clapping me on the back and calling me a ‘stud’. I do wish he would desist.” 

“I kept thinking she was too childish to care, but Mom keeps bouncing up to me and asking me for details. _Details_.”

“……Cherche is… _intrigued_. It is more horrible than I dared imagine.”

Libra cleared his throat, a wispy little sound that nonetheless made them all fall instantly silent.

“I can only imagine how difficult it is for all of you,” the priest said, meeting all of their eyes in turn. “Having to deal with your parents’… interest. Or disinterest, or disapproval… whatever the case may be.” He locked eyes with his daughter, who shrank back under his calm, direct gaze.

“Noire,” Libra said gently. “This new family of yours… I do not wish to condemn you, nor talk you out of feeling the way you do. This—“ He spread his arms to gesture around the tent – “is not a sin to be forgiven. I wish you would grant me the chance to get to know these people who mean so much to you.”

The archer’s eyes filled with tears. “Daddy…" 

“I heal your wounds when you are hurt,” Libra went on, his voice still gentle, though now full of emotion himself. “I protect you, from our enemies and even from your mother. I’ve loved you from the moment we rescued you from that fort. It… it wounds me that you did not trust me.”

Now Noire really did start to cry. “I was scared you’d hate me…” she said before bowing her head, turning to weep into Brady’s shoulder. The younger priest looked rather misty himself, even as he comforted Noire.

“I do not,” Libra said, moving around the table now, kneeling to take his daughter into his arms. “You are in love. I cannot hate you for that. I will not.” He looked up at the rest of them, who seemed stunned by the scene unfolding before them. “Nor any of you,” he added, and the other children looked across the table at one another.

Inigo was the first to recover, clearing his throat. “I did not realize you were so… liberal, dear Libra.” 

“Naga is love, my child,” Libra told the mercenary over his daughter’s head. “There is enforcing tradition, and then there is enforcing that singular truth.” He stroked Noire’s pale hair, kissing her forehead. “Others might not recognize your family as such, but such love in this place… it can only be Naga’s work.”

The priest’s words washed over the children of the future, making Cynthia tear up a little, Yarne and Laurent blush scarlet, and Brady finally weep openly.

“Then… then lo, fair priest!” Owain said, jumping to his feet. “If you feel thusly, then I do humbly request that you… that is, in the name of our mighty Naga…” 

“That is why I’ve come tonight, Owain,” Libra said, letting Noire pull away as he smiled at the group. “I hoped you might let me give you the official blessing.”

 

\---

 

It was certainly not the first wedding held in camp, but it was by far the most memorable.

The Shepherds had moved to the Divine Dragon Grounds for the ceremony, so they might find enough flowers for all the brides and grooms. Sumia had woven flower crowns for everyone in the ceremony, Frederick had cleared a space in record time, Olivia and Gaius had baked the grandest cake of all… even Lucina had helped, declaring that she would lead the wedding procession.

“I suppose it’s up to me to give you all away,” she had said, in one of her terrible attempts at humor, and she’d been buried in a truly epic group hug. 

And so the thirteen of them proceeded into the field, single-file, while Cordelia and Stahl played a wedding hymn on their harps. It had certainly taken some modifications to let this wedding happen: traditionally, the future husband would wait at the priest’s side while his bride came to meet him, and the two would face each other, holding hands. But Lucina stepped aside, letting her eleven best friends and her daughter approach Libra’s dais, and the twelve of them formed a tight circle before Libra, all of them clutching each other’s hands tightly. 

“Naga works in mysterious ways,” Libra said to the gathered crowd: all the parents of the brides and grooms, friends and allies from the road, even unmarried Virion and Ricken who had come from the barracks to see what the fuss was about. “First, she has sent us our children from a ruinous future, come to save us all from the darkness. And from that world of despair, love has blossomed. Nay, love has truly _thrived_. And we are gathered here today to celebrate that love, how it has multiplied and brought these children together, forming them into a single bond that no sword can shatter, no spell can sever.”

He addressed the crowd. “This union of our children has truly strengthened our personal ties, further than ever before. We are no longer merely friends, bound by trust and caring. All of you, standing to witness this ceremony… I can now call all of you my _family_ , and proudly, for now your children are my children as well. Naga is truly great to bless us with this gift.”

He lowered his gaze to the knot standing before him, their faces upturned with joy. “As there are many of you, I will repeat these vows once; hold them well in your hearts. Do you vow to honor one another, cherish one another, protect one another with your lives, in sickness and in health, in darkness and in light… so long as you all live?”

Owain spoke first. “May barbarian hordes strike me down if I do not!”

“Of course,” Inigo said, grinning around at his loves.

“I do,” Kjelle said with her head held high.

“Yep, yep!” Cynthia agreed, unable to keep from bouncing a little. 

“Ya know I do!” Brady said, already a bit weepy.

“Til extinction do us part!” Yarne said with a toothy smile.

“Obviously!” Morgan giggled, squeezing Yarne’s and Severa’s hands tighter.

“Sure do,” Severa said with a toss of her head.

“I-I do,” Noire said with a shy smile. 

“Certainly I do,” Laurent asserted. 

“…Yes,” said Gerome, blushing the deepest of all of them.

“I know I’ll outlive you all,” Nah said, the last to speak. “But as long as we’re all alive, I’ll keep all of you safe, and love all of you with all I have. I swear it.”

Libra smiled down at the newlyweds. “Then,” he finished, “in Naga’s name, I proclaim the twelve of you wed, in the eyes of Naga and man. You may kiss.”

The last line was tradition, said without thinking, and Libra immediately saw the logistical problems with it as the circle caved in on itself, the twelve newlyweds rushing to kiss one another.

Still, he reasoned, if they could find some way to make it all work, it couldn’t all be bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Fluffiest. Orgy. Ever.
> 
> If you enjoyed this, or were baffled by this, or want to hear more about the sexual/romantic orientations I chose for the kids (or who their parents are), you can come to phoenixrei.tumblr.com. 
> 
> If you want to learn more about the EVENT that this playthrough was, you can read about it on my sideblog [here](http://megisplaying.tumblr.com/tagged/adventures-of-pikachu/chrono).


End file.
